


God Says Nothing Back

by ReadingBlueWolf



Series: Three Card Monte [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anger, Comfort, Gen, Grief, Hurt, Pain, Sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadingBlueWolf/pseuds/ReadingBlueWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fairy tales always fantasize the hero being loved and adored, only in the real world life doesn't work that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sign At the Cross

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Steve has a bad day. Inspired by the song Endless from The Lion King Musical.

The satisfying click told him the door was open.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., make sure the alarm is off."

"All systems offline, sir. You are free to enter."

With a quick glance behind, he slid into the room and shut the door behind him. His hand then rose to his head where he removed the ear piece that connected with J.A.R.V.I.S.. As he walked up the main aisle, he placed it in his pocket.

The small sanctuary was dark, lit only by the streetlamps dimly glowing through stained glass.  _Wonder what people would think of Captain America breaking into a church?_

His eyes scanned over grey fabric chairs and soft beige walls as he approached the front. Slowing his pace, he swallowed roughly as he halted in front of the altar. Averting his eyes from the wooden cross before him, he folded his arms over his chest and stood in silence.

Several minutes passed before he found himself able to speak.

"You know… I've always believed… I've always followed You. I've always tried to do what was best. But here I am now, feeling as if you've abandoned me. I've never felt this low…"

He shook his head. The choppy words in his mouth tasted of blasphemy. He shouldn't be complaining about his situation. He'd already been blessed in more ways than imaginable.

If that was the case, then why did he feel so empty at the moment? He'd seen Bucky die. Lost Peggy. Been separated from his entire world. He was alone in this new place—this new era—and he couldn't figure out why  _he_  was chosen to suffer through it.

The world had changed so much since he'd been frozen. Technology had advanced in ways he'd never dreamed. Warfare was anything but simple anymore. Everything was so foreign that when he first woke he thought he was in another universe.

Steve sighed. "I don't understand where You've gone or why You've left me here. I'm a fish out of water. Why did You think this was the best plan for me? Why did You think I could handle it? Why are You not helping me get through this?"

After a few steadying breaths, he rocked slightly from foot to foot as his mind turned.

Out of all the Avengers, he was the only one to believe in God so strongly. He'd often mention his deity in passing or when given the opportunity. He had always been taught to love his God and trust the plans laid out for his life. At the moment however…

"I look ridiculous for stating the things I believe in!" He hesitated as he tried to hold back tears. "I told Natasha that day that there was only one God. However, in the midst of everything,  _I_  look like the liar.  _I_  look like the fool! These other "gods" are running around wreaking havoc, and yet the one I believe in is  _nowhere_  to be found."

He gritted his teeth. "I can't remember the last time you showed yourself to me. I can't remember the last time I've felt you near. No wonder Bruce believes in science. At least there's proof in that!"

He collapsed to his knees as his hands move to cover his face.

"I try to do good. I try to be the hero everyone expects me to be. But it all just blows up in my face! People hate the Avengers—hate me, because of what happened in New York. Do you realize the amount of people who have spat in my face or the slew of curse words that have come my way? I am nothing to them. Nothing but a  _failure_. And despite trying to save everyone I could, they blame me for the ones I  _couldn't_  help."

Tears stung his eyes as his head rested on the altar. "Why have you abandoned me? What did I do to deserve this? How did I fail you?"

A jagged breath crossed his lips as his fist clenched. "You  _promised_  you'd always be there! You swore you'd never leave me! Then why am I here alone?!"

Steve wasn't sure how long he sat there, but he knew his voice felt hoarse and tears stained his face and shirt. After several deep breaths, he looked up at the cross and suddenly more tears pricked his eyes.

He sighed softly. "Is it so bad to ask for happiness? Everyone I know has loved ones, but… all mine are gone. I'm walking in the dark crying out to you. I  _need_  you to help me. I  _need_  you to be here!" He took a few more steadying breaths. "I want a place to call home. Somewhere I can lay my head down at night and sleep, a place where I have a family. Is that so much to ask?

"I've tried to be strong, to hold on… but it's getting so hard. If you could give me a sign, just one, it'll end this nightmare. I'll be content if you just speak."

Steve wasn't sure what he expected to happen in the dark sanctuary, but he was half-hoping God would appear before him. When he realized this wasn't a possibility, he grudgingly pulled himself to his feet. After heaving another sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. The flashing blue light caught his attention.  _A message?_

Poking at the screen, he navigated to a text:

_You done yet? We're wondering when you're coming home.  
_ — _Stark_

An awkward chuckle left his lips as he made for the door. With a glance at the cross, he nodded.

"Thanks."


	2. Fate Chooses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 2 AM. Inspired by Breathe (2 AM) by Anna Nalick. (Original idea, I know)
> 
> No slash. Sorry, if it's rough.

He stares at the clock. Those gods awful green numbers mock him. They taunt his lack of slumber. It's been this way a while, though. He isn't entirely surprised. He was denied what he wanted most—or what he was  _told_  he wanted most.

Why?

He isn't entirely sure why fate is after him. Why did she pick him? Why couldn't he be happy?

Instead, eyes turn towards him, accusing him. Like they understand him. Like they know what he's been through. Like they have any right to judge him for something they'd dream of.

If he were more like Stark, he'd drink his pain away. That lucky bastard has an out— _How often is the man sober again?_  Instead, he has the green numbers ridiculing him and counting his every second of failure.

He turns over; making sure the damn thing can see his back. He stares into the dark as his breaths begin to count time...despite his best efforts.

_~GSNB~_

He knows most people consider him a drunk; that's not a big surprise. But none of them truly understand why. In fact, he barely remembers when it started—he just knows why he continues.

It's a common mind-set of his to place blame on others even when it's not their fault. In this case however, it's fully justified.

The damn Jotun was angry at his worthless adopted father and wanted revenge on his brother who would one day be king. In that mad conquest he destroyed half of New York, ruined friendships—not to mention countless lives—all so he could make others suffer his pain. Or at least that's what he claims.

In reality, the Jotun allows himself to be vulnerable and used just because he isn't happy with the color of his skin. Why should everyone else have to suffer for it though?

He takes another sip of scotch, and looks over the city—lights just starting to shine in the dark night—and contemplates the fact that everyone needs to move on and rebuild like the city is. That's one thing he has in common with the Jotun though.

He can't change the course of fate, and there is no rewind button for past mistakes.


	3. My Cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Mr. Cellophane from Chicago sung by John C. Reilly.

A soft beep echoed in the otherwise silent room. He heaved a sigh as he looked at the pristine white ceiling. His finger tapped against his thigh before he glanced about the small sterile room. Apart from him, it was devoid of life.

_So glad that Fury thinks this is best._

His shoulders sagged as he glanced down to the oxygen mask. As he breathed out, he saw his breath against the plastic.

_So, so glad…_

It had been two weeks so far since he'd been stabbed by the Asgardian alien. In that time, he was trapped in the quiet room while recovering. According to Fury, he still had a few weeks before he could even consider light work.

_If Fury's trust worthy._

Two long weeks with only Fury and a few select physicians taking care of him. No company. No friends. No family.

_Do I even matter?_

If an Avenger took a hit, their room would be flooded with balloons and visitors. The best physicians in the world— _universe_ —would be working on them. They would be good as new in no time. Since he wasn't quite part of the superhero league however, he didn't quite qualify.

Phil sighed. How long before Fury actually appreciated him?

_Is a simple thank you that hard?_

Unless Fury needed him for a mission, he was invisible. He wasn't included in top secret meetings—despite being with S.H.I.E.L.D. for many years. He wasn't a higher rank. He wasn't anything more than a peon.

_You think I'd at least be privileged to more classified information instead of babysitting the alcoholic and later a hammer._

The real issue, and the reason he stewed, had been when Fury brought him his collector Captain America cards—now stained in blood. His most prized possessions had been destroyed so that the boss could fool a bunch of heroes into fighting off an invasion. Sure, they needed to fight, but why did the cards have to be destroyed in the process?

He lifted his favorite in front of his face. The top left corner down was smeared in blood covering up most of Captain America giving a salute with his old shield.

_Does Fury even care? Does he even realize I'm a human being with feelings?_

He placed the card on the table beside him and sighed again.

_I'm basically cellophane._


End file.
